I was about to say, when interrupted, that I hoped to be pardoned, if I adverted for one moment to the onslaught made upon what I have said in this debate. I do not understand it. I do not know why Senators have given such rein to the passion for personality. I made no criticism on any Senator, and no allusion, even, to any Senator. I addressed myself directly to the question, and endeavored to treat it with all the reserve consistent with proper frankness. Senators, one after another, have attacked me personally. The Senator from Oregon [Mr. NESMITH] seemed to riot in the business. The Senator from California [Mr. CONNESS], from whom I had reason to expect something better, caught the spirit of the other Pacific Senator. Sir, there was nothing in what I said to justify such attack. But I will not proceed in the comments their speeches invite; I turn away. There was, however, one remark of the Senator from Oregon to which I will refer. He complained that I was unwilling to patronize native art, and that I dwelt on the productions of foreign artists to the disparagement of our own. I am at a loss for the motive of this singular misrepresentation. Let the Senator quote a sentence or word which fell from me in disparagement of native art. He cannot. I know the art of my country too well, and think of it with too much of patriotic pride. I alluded to only one foreign artist, and he was that sympathetic and gifted Frenchman who has endowed the Capitol with the portrait of Lafayette. The other artists that I praised were all of my own country. There was Rembrandt Peale, of Philadelphia, to whom we are indebted for the portrait of Washington. There was Trumbull, the companion of Washington, and one of his military staff, who, quitting the toils of war, gave himself to painting, under the inspiration of West, himself an American, and produced works which I pronounced the chief treasure of the rotunda. There also was Greenough, the earliest American sculptor, and, until Story took the chisel, unquestionably the most accomplished of all in the list of American sculptors. He was a scholar, versed in the languages of antiquity and modern times, who studied the art he practised in the literature of every tongue. Of him I never fail to speak in praise. There also was Crawford, an American sculptor, born in New York, and my own intimate personal friend, whose early triumphs I witnessed and enjoyed. He was a true genius, versatile, fertile, bold. His short life was crowned by the honors of his profession, and he was hailed at home and abroad as a great sculptor. How can I speak of this friend of my early life except with admiration and love? I alluded also to Rogers, an American artist, from the West,--yes, Sir, from the West---- MR. HOWARD. Who was educated in Michigan.